


Kingston's King Shit

by ScripturientJ



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Androids, Angst, Disabled Character, Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, I guess hurt/attempted comfort, I'll add tags if needed, Non-descript wounds, Suicidal Ideation, Unbeta'd and Unedited, because king is Like That, definitely something along those lines, i think king technically has a panic attack too but also i have 3 braincells, i think uhhh, king thinks about how like he's been sort of actively trying to die so i guess yeah thats that, this is literally a vent fic dont @ me ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22252633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScripturientJ/pseuds/ScripturientJ
Summary: we do be having a mental breakdown and writing about our borderlands ocs doe
Kudos: 5





	Kingston's King Shit

**Author's Note:**

> This is like actually unedited and was written over the time of two weeks while i was having like 5 breakdowns it probably doesn't make sense thanks

It wasn’t an unnatural occurrence for C.A.M. to be awoken by some sound or another in the midst of the camp’s sleeping hours, whether it was the scraping and rummaging of a skag’s insistent scratching in search of leftover scraps, or (more annoyingly enough), the firing of gunshots within the tangle of haphazardly repaired housing and tents. It was natural enough, with them making their home amongst the dusty expanse of Pandora; they knew what peace there was, but the planet they called a base and peace were never actually truly compatible. It didn’t bother him to charge at night with his senses left alert, even with Rexxx’s snoring in his audio registering compoent (in other words his left ear), or with the coming and going of friends outside. 

C.A.M. wasn’t surprised when a brief alarm for an unregistered sound echoed through his system, and it wasn’t with much hesitation that he creaked his eyes open; one before the other, as the right grew rather persnickety when left to its own accord for too long. His jaw cracked and popped similarly as he stretched it open in a non-mandatory, however behavioral, yawn, again lopsided where the metal where faux-skin had been torn away was exposed. For a moment he did not move otherwise, taking count of what he could from his current position, with Rexxx’s face pressed into the side of his head, taking enjoyment in the feeling of C.A.M.’s cooling skin against his forehead as he slept. The ceiling still stood above them (Which was good, but also prone to change), and if he strained slightly he could hear Carmen’s steady breaths from the room over (Though, room was an exaggeration at best; the walls barely counted as walls at this point, and they had patched up the various holes that littered the structure with some nails and blankets). Everything seemed _enough_ in order, and C.A.M. sat in silence for the moments that passed before Rexxx made another… rather unflattering sound, before the building was quiet again. 

C.A.M.’s left eye flickered with dull light, and he had begun to shrug off the alert as a false alarm (Or, something that could await until morning), when the sound finally was caught again. It was nothing loud, though it had the potential to be if it weren’t muffled (As C.A.M. assumed it to be). Another beat of silence passed before the noise came again, more forceful and drawn out by what felt like the sharp sting of pain as the android listened attentively. His brow creased, as he often saw Carmen do when she was overcome with concern, a habit absorbed by C.A.M. as their time together grew on, and the program playfully named “Empa.exe” by Rexxx kicked itself into gear with only an ounce of whirring within C.A.M.’s chest, and he raised a hand slowly -- as to not jostle too much -- to unplug himself, gingerly pinching and tugging the cord from the port in the side of his neck. By then silence had elapsed again, save for the steady breaths of sleep and Rexxx’s disgruntled noises as the android detangled himself from his partner. 

C.A.M. carefully replaced his spot with a pillow for Rexxx to press his face into rather than him, twisting awkwardly in a way that would have been painful if not for the way his nerves had grown dulled with time; and, of course, if he had been human in the first place. C.A.M. slowly maneuvered himself out of the bed, nearly tumbling onto the floor with a clatter. 

C.A.M.’s shoulders rose with a breath that was more for effect than anything else, carefully straightening his shirt where it had grown lopsided around the shoulders. A soft kiss of sorts was pressed to Rexxx’s faded hair, as if to appease the sleeping man until his partner’s return to bed. 

There were only a few moments of hesitation before the noise -- something that _someone_ struggled to muffle -- was to be heard again, from the haphazardly composed area that they called a kitchen, C.A.M. supposed. His metaphorical heart dropped at the sound, and his steps were soft as he slowly walked forward, feet padded by the worn socks that covered them as he slowly eased open the creaking door that offered some semblance of privacy. 

The squeak that sounded was met with an inhale, and an unsteady, shambling step that sounded frantic in it’s escape. C.A.M.’s brow furrowed slightly, off-handedly catching the pattern of the few footsteps and attempting to place it to a face as he walked a few slow, however sure, steps forward. 

The sound of water dripping from the faucet joined the symphony of the night moments later, breathing shuttering with the effort to keep quiet as C.A.M made his way around the corner, speaking in a low volume, however as punctuated as usual.

“King?” It was posed as a question of sorts, as if assuring he had the right man, though there was little question when he was met with a frantic glance, the auburn-haired pirate hurriedly rubbing water from his face and eyes alike with his one hand as he turned, jabbing the broken edge of the countertop into his hip in an effort to come off as casual. 

“Isn’t it a little early to be up ‘n waltzin’ about? Isn’t it past your bedtime? Bedtimes seem like a Carmen thing to do.” There was the edge of broken confidence to King’s tone, nearly as sharp as the countertop’s own edge, though his voice slurred and broke a bit when he let it, between the tears that had begun to well up in his eye again and the alcohol that had been haphazardly put into his system. C.A.M.’s eyes scanned over the overturned stash on the counter, noting the glass and the half-empty bottle of whiskey where they had been haphazardly abandoned, and if he had been the type to salivate in the first place, his mouth would have grown dry in that moment. 

“I believe you were instructed to _stay in bed_ , King.” C.A.M.’s brow was furrowed again, and he flashed a look to the man, who was smirking as if that would hide the redness in his eyes and face, or the way that his hand shook as he pressed his palm against the spot where his right eye used to be, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, if I knew you were going to be up, I w’ldn’t’ve gott’n up.” Kingston let out a small snort, before sniffling again, his expression falling a few seconds later as he squinted his eye and then looked away.

C.A.M. flashed him an exasperated look, before shaking his head, “I also believe you were instructed to avoid the ingestion of alcohol while on painkillers.” The android pointed this out, though he knew that it wouldn’t warrant any kind of guilt or apology on behalf of the other man. It wasn’t as if C.A.M. were personally insulted anyhow, but it was dragging to see the pirate in such a way, even if Rexxx would have told him not to bother with trying to help him if he didn’t feel the need to follow basic instructions (Which, King rarely did; it was as if he went out of his way to break every rule he was given, if not only for the sake of saying he had broken it). 

Predictably, King’s only response was a hearty scoff at that, ignoring the way his eyes and throat burned as he stumbled the few steps back towards the island where the collection of liquor and wine alike laid out on display, throwing back the rest of his latest glass as if out of spite for C.A.M.

King opened his mouth as if to speak again, before instead just letting out another huff through his nose, all but slamming the glass back down on the worn countertop. A few more moments of silence passed, within which Kingston's breath hitched momentarily, shaking against his own accord as he quickly jammed the heel of his hand into his eye, before giving C.A.M. a quick look. 

"So, d'd you just come out here to scold me, _dad,_ or are you g’n'a do something about it?" His tone was almost accusatory, even as he leaned more heavily on the counter for support, eye glaringly narrowed in on the android. 

C.A.M. could physically see the tension in Kingston's shoulders, the man slightly hunched in on himself protectively, as if prepared for the worst. As defensive as his tone was, his stance was more so, and it was clear that he was uncomfortable to be caught in his current state — one-armed, wounded, and clearly drunk if not distraught on top of that. C.A.M. frowned slightly, stepping around the counter to stand closer to King, and staring down at him with concern etched into his features. 

"Are you okay?" 

King barked out a laugh at the question, though he was clearly made uncomfortable by the display of genuine care, turning his face away in an uncharacteristic show of stepping away from anything he deemed a challenge. C.A.M.'s face scrunched up in something weighed by the Auburn haired man's response to the question. 

“Yeah. I’m _fine_.” His voice was sharp, even as it cracked a bit, and King’s gaze hardened with the resolve that it often did when he was faced with the prospect of something as daunting as being cared for. There was silence again, as they stood, and the moment that C.A.M.’s jaw hinge creaked again with the threat of him speaking, Kingston was eager to interrupt.

“What does it even --” He cut off, squinting his eye and then quickly turning his head away again, jaw set in an attempt to keep his ground, “Whatever. _You_ can clean this up, since you’re so insi...insist... _set_ on bothering me.” King flashed a strained smile that conveyed a forced smugness, shoving himself up straight from where he had begun to lean over the counter, his glass rolling before tumbling over onto its side, luckily empty. King had half the mind to bite out another remark; something about C.A.M. and Rexxx’s bedroom ettiquite, or simply uttering the phrase _fuck off_ as if his attitude wasn’t clear enough; but, as a fresh wave of what King identified to be shame and guilt rolled in his stomach, Kingston wasn’t sure he would make it through another sentence without the tears he had so carefully walled up spilling over. 

“King-” C.A.M.’s tone was genuine, lacking the tartness that came with most after his outbursts, and Kingston bit into his tongue, grinding his teeth into the muscle as he stared down at the counter. C.A.M.’s concern was met with King turning his back, pushing himself away as he stalked back towards the room that had been somewhat considered his, though it was more of just a sectioned off bit of the expanse of building that was used for medical. C.A.M. spoke in protest again, though King didn’t seem to hear it as he set one foot in front of the other, shoulders tense as he tried to hide the wobble in his step. His vision was blurry with tears, and every step brought another strain of shooting pain up King’s leg and through his spine, the still-fresh wound irritated by the movement and unsteadiness brought to his step by the addition of medication and alcohol to his system. 

It wasn’t a _surprise_ when it buckled under him, though King wished it had been, jerking at the feeling of a cold hand catching him by the shoulder, fingertips digging into his bicep. King lacked the free hand to bat C.A.M. away, glaring up at the unnaturally tall android spitefully as he twisted with a half-hearted attempt to get away.

A few seconds of silence elapsed as C.A.M hooked his arm under King’s armpit, propping the pirate up against his hip, allowing him at least the small grace of attempting to walk on his own, even if assisted by C.A.M. 

“We can’t keep doing this, King.” He spoke after a few moments, following dutifully as they walked forward in an awkward gait, with C.A.M. bent to support King despite their almost-foot height difference and Kingston’s insistence on resisting the help, trying to push the speed faster than his injury allowed. 

“Doin’ _what?_ ” His voice was hard, even if slightly catching at the end, frustration only fueling the bubbling emotions in his chest as he was held firmly to C.A.M., and regrettably falling back on using the android for support. 

“ _This!_ ” C.A.M. hefted King up to encourage a more even distribution of the effort it took to walk, “I’m not going to just let you keep doing… whatever _this_ is, King. You’re my friend.” 

King went physically rigid under C.A.M.’s hand, though if it was brought about by the affectionate title or the concern was unclear. All the same, Kingston responded with a choked sound, that began in his chest before getting caught in his throat, eye glinting in the low light as they finally approached the ragged couch that had been claimed in his name for the time being. It was with an unceremonious grunt that Kingston pushed himself away from C.A.M. eagerly onto the worn cushions, easing into the jabbing and broken springs as he settled back. 

C.A.M. was a looming sight, imposing despite his best attempt to come off as something less intimidating, and the worn exposed metal of his face and exposed neck glinted in the low light that shone into the room. 

“I’ve been doing some research into it on the ECHOnet, and I have reason to believe that you--”

“Will you _shut up_?” King’s voice was dripping with poison as he glared up at C.A.M., his heart beating hard in his chest, “You got what you wanted. I’m back on the couch. Tuck me in, do whatever the fuck you want, but just _please_ shut up. ’M too tired for this.” 

His tone was accusatory, as if C.A.M. was the reason he had been up. He buried his face in his hand, and for a moment he contemplated requesting that his arm be returned if only for his own comfort despite his outburst, but his thoughts were interrupted by the shifting of weight beside him as C.A.M. pointedly settled into the cushion beside him.

“I don’t believe I can do that, King.” The android’s voice was low, tone soothing despite Kingston’s bristling as the android sought to meet his eye despite Kingston’s stubborn refusal. They both ignored as a single tear rolled down the bridge of King’s nose before dropping into his lap.

“Why were you up?” There were more underlying questions, unspoken, somewhere in the realms of ‘why were you drinking so early?’ and ‘why were you crying, anyway?’, though C.A.M. neglected to voice them. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Happy now?” King rubbed at his face with the back of his hand, the movement rough and uncalculated as his hand shook, casting a brief, squinting glare in C.A.M.’s direction. 

There was a beat of silence that lingered, before C.A.M. broke in again, “...Did you have a nightmare?” 

King briefly considered actually biting C.A.M. to get his point across, snarling out, “ _No,_ I didn’t have a _nightmare_. Who do you think I am? I’m not a _kid_ , believe it or not.” C.A.M. considered, and the gears that turned with his thoughts were quite literally almost audible as he thought, squinting his eyes. 

“So -- then what was keeping you up?” Kingston was really getting tired of C.A.M.’s prying; his stomach churned with guilt and whiskey alike, and his chest ached with a painful sort of emptiness that came from deep within him. 

“I don’t see why it matters.”

“ _King._ I’m not leaving here without an answer.” C.A.M.’s voice grew harder, with an edge of urgency as he moved to catch King’s hand in his in what he assumed was meant to be comforting, though it was quickly evaded. Kingston cast him a brief glare, as if considering the seriousness contained within the threat. He tapped his foot impatiently, lapsing into uncharacteristic silence for once.

“You know when you’re just…. _Thinkin_ ’ and you can’t-can’t stop?” King’s voice was surprisingly hoarse when he just barely spoke the words, and C.A.M.’s expression retained that concerned expression that irked him down to the bone, King’s hand curled into a fist sharply, casting a half-hearted look in the androids direction again. 

“Not personally, but, I believe Carmen used to struggle with the same thing.” King let out a snorting laugh at C.A.M.’s response, his chest weighed down by a feeling so heavy he was afraid it would collapse in on itself. 

“Do you ever wonder what the point is, _C.A.M._?” King’s voice was stinging, hard, though there was the choked tone of someone who was holding back tears there again, and he cut C.A.M. off the moment he began to speak, “I know you don’t. You’re a _program_.” Kingston said that with something akin to menace in his voice, “Ones and zeros don’t do anything but create point after point, even if the only real points they generate are data points.” 

Despite his admissions, every word was like another dagger thrown or a bullet shot with the intention of driving the intruding party away. Apart of King considered simply leaving; climbing to his feet again, stumbling off into the Pandoran planes. If he lived or died wasn’t _his_ problem. Honestly, it was all in due time, whenever it came at this point. King wasn’t sure when the tears in his eye returned, but he quickly sniffed and dug the heel of his palm into the socket again, rubbing at it insistently. 

C.A.M. just stared for a moment, before gingerly placing his hand on King’s good shoulder gingerly, before allowing it to truly rest there when he wasn’t immediately shrugged off. There was silence, and then C.A.M. made an affirmative noise, half mechanical in nature.

“That doesn’t sound like a healthy way to think, King.” It was slightly robotic, as if C.A.M. wasn’t sure what to really do with the outburst, and it was met with another laugh, slightly more hysterical than the last, “Would you like to talk about it?” 

Kingston couldn’t believe that he was _here_ doing _this_. It was horrible and humiliating and _disgusting_. Pandora wasn’t _supposed_ to be a place where you could trust, or where you could do much more than just repress all of it and live constantly teetering the line between life and death, yet here was C.A.M., worn and broken by the tearing claws of the planet he had _chosen_ to come to, looking at him with as much concern he could muster in his automated expression. It made King sick to his stomach, and he swallowed down a sob and nausea the same, trying to ignore the only more insistent weight in his chest. 

“Talk about _what_? Why do you--” King had to inhale slowly, grimacing slightly, “Why care?” He eventually settled on that, thoughts made sluggish by stolen booze and weighted with the dawdling remains of the painkillers that he had been forced to take hours before. 

"You're my – what do you _mean_ why care? King, you're one of my dearest friends and I–" 

Now _that_ was funny to hear, and King made a noise that seemed caught between a sob that he hadn't prepared for and another bout of forced laughter. 

"Don't give me that. Just… _don't_ , okay? I don't want to hear it. Don't lie to me because you think it's what I wanna hear. I've never given _you_ that mercy, so why give it to me?" God, King wished he had something to do with his hands, something to do aside from flex his fist tighter and deepen the imprint of nails in his palm. 

C.A.M.'s hand came to rest on top of King's, pointedly unfurling his fingers and soothing over the crescents with cold fingers, as if to work them away. It was a small surprise when the pirate didn't recoil away, nor voice further complaint, but C.A.M. wasn’t about to protest it himself. The silence that lapsed unnerved King, his eyes cutting into the hand that held his with enough force that it was notable but not enough to seem forceful, and his vision swam. He didn’t understand. King didn’t understand _why_ C.A.M. was like this, and why he wouldn’t just -- _go,_ and the sob that escaped him next wasn’t expected, and he jerked his hand away from C.A.M. in a flurry to muffle the one that followed a few seconds later. King didn’t cry, he didn’t do it, not in front of people, he _couldn’t_ , it wasn’t -- he just _couldn’t_ do it, he knew that, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Not as C.A.M. put a gentle arm around him and pulled him in gingerly, not as he bit so hard into the flesh of his hand that he was sure that he tasted the tang of blood, and not as fingers ran through his hair. It felt _wrong_ , not only wrong to be so vulnerable, but to be cared for with such sincerity. It terrified Kingston in a way that he couldn’t describe. It was an intermingling of emotions that couldn’t be put into words, and King practically folded into himself as he was held by the android. 

King couldn’t be bothered with the soothing words that came with C.A.M.’s comfort, smearing tears and snot alike across the dirty and worn fabric of that jacket he always wore, breathing coming in hiccupping pathetic excuses of inhales and rushed exhales. Now that his thoughts had been given an opening to rush out, they had all taken off at the gate, and it was hard to catch a breath over the stampede, Kingston hesitant to match his breaths to the soothing petting of C.A.M.’s hand over his hair. 

“Just let it out, it’s gonna be okay. You need to breathe, though, Kingston-” King cut through the rudimentary attempts of comfort with a hurried rush of words, “I’m-” King didn’t apologize, he didn’t do it, but he did it now, the word broken and muffled as he continued to try and force himself back into a calm, “I’m so-so-sorry, I didn’t -- I don’t know wh--” King seemed to be doing a lot of things that he made a habit out of not doing, and his arm wouldn’t seem to cooperate as every grain of his being urged him to shove away, disappear from this place, never meet C.A.M.’s eye again. He was going to tell them, God, King’s reputation was _ruined_ they were going to know, and then _everybody_ was going to know, and they were going to know that he was _weak_ and as hard as he tried he would never be good enough for this _godforsaken_ planet that felt like home and - King was jerked back to attention by C.A.M. pulling him back, meeting his spotty vision with mismatched eyes and a brow that was as furrowed as it had been all night. 

“ _Breathe_.” It was an order this time, and King forced himself to gulp down a breath, then another as C.A.M. pointedly wiped his face with a sleeve, seemingly not noticing how _awful_ he had to look right now. 

“Now, would you like to-” 

“I don’t know why I’m still here, C.A.M..” King’s voice was weaker, shaky with tears and broken by continued hiccuping breaths, dotted with choked sobs as he tried to stay quiet, “In-in this… house. I don’t know why you keep letting me come back.” C.A.M. opened his mouth to speak again, but Kingston swatted at him with a shaking hand, covering the android’s mouth as if that were to do anything but give a signal as he kept his eyes averted. 

“Don’t know why I’m still on this planet. Thought I was gonna die by the time I was 25. Counting on it. Grew up on it.” Kingston’s chest was tight, and he already felt strangled by the shame and desperation alike that came with the admission, eyes flashing to C.A.M., swallowing down humiliation, “I’m not suicidal, I wouldn’t… not that. I’m just - I’ve done everything that _should_ have gotten me killed by now. I wanted to die in - in an explosion or some shit, y’know? With a story.” That’s what he told himself, at least, even as things seemed more bleak outside of picking fights and having sex, “But none of it has killed me. ‘N now I’m - what am I?” King’s voice caught on a sob that was almost a whimper, crumpling into himself, hunched over with his eye buried in his arm as if that would make him take it back. 

Every word felt like another mistake, something else that needed to be recovered from -- something else that he couldn’t recover from, but he couldn’t stop. Still, C.A.M. lapsed into silence for once, his hand slowly drifting to rub over King’s back, pointedly avoiding the shoulder where the latch for his metal arm laid. Kingston felt like he was suffocating in his own tears as he sat, awkwardly bent and twisted, a metal thumb rubbing into his spine as his stomach turned with nerves. 

King was almost sure that this had overloaded the android’s system - given him something with no answer. What _was_ Kingston Holt’s purpose? Why was he here? That was a good question, wasn’t it? The man himself couldn’t answer that, so why could C.A.M.? King had made damn well sure there was nobody who was dependent on him - or, moreso, that he was dependent on in the first place. Pandora wasn’t nice on friends, and much less on lovers, and King hadn’t dared even a pet through his travels, on and off planet. Kingston, in all honesty, knew himself to be a parasite. He leeched off of others, abused their kindness, stole from those who needed their belongings more than he needed their belongings. It was almost amusing, to imagine the look on C.A.M.’s face as he desperately searched the ECHOnet for an answer -- anything that may be applicable to this situation. 

King nearly shit himself when C.A.M.’s hand shifted up, curling under his shoulder and slowly pulling him up with a simple, “Can you look at me, please?” 

King couldn’t stand to meet C.A.M.’s eye, not when he was like this, not after what he had said, what he thought and what he had been thinking for a while now, and it wasn’t until the android put a hand on each side of his head and straightened his gaze that Kingston even briefly met his glance. 

“King.” C.A.M.’s voice was steady, though heavy with modulated worry, “That’s not a healthy way to think.” 

It was almost hysterical the way that King broke then, a loud laugh escaping him before he could stop it as a hand rose to curl around C.A.M.’s metallic wrist, gripping it tightly through the fabric of his coat. 

“No shit?” Kingston’s voice was mocking, despite his continued tears and uneven breaths, shaking his head where C.A.M. held him firm. The android didn’t seem to find it as amusing as he did, his eyes narrowing in. 

“I’m sleeping with you tonight.”

“Oh my G- You’re _what_?” King’s voice pitched a bit, jerking his chin away, “I see how it is, get the guy to spill his darkest innermost secret and then you - you try and se-seduce him? Well, C.A.M., all you had to do wa-was ask. Rexxx doesn’t have-have to even know!” Kingston was desperate at this point, to evade C.A.M., to escape what he had done and what had been done, and what was to come. He had expected C.A.M. to agree, however idiotic that idea had been; to go with it, maybe even help him rationalize it. The old C.A.M. may have, King _supposed_ , but this one… Kingston missed the years before the Children of the Vault came to power. 

“And you’re staying here until you realize how much your life is truly worth. No matter what it takes.” Kingston was _sure_ he was joking now. He had definitely mixed up his programming or something, because this was too much, he couldn’t expect King to really _stay here_. C.A.M.’s posture showed no sign of this being a joke, however, and his expression was drawn flat in determination. 

“I need to do more research on how to help you best, but I'm not letting you out of my _sight_ until I figure out how to do it.” Kingston already felt fidgety just thinking about that, and his grip tightened, pulling on C.A.M.’s wrist until the android released that hand, keeping only the other in place. Kingston opened his mouth to speak, before it slowly shut again, shoulders falling with the exhaustion that came with his outburst. C.A.M. couldn’t _actually_ mean that, could he? King shifted in his seat, expression drawing into something that toed the line of disbelieving and argumentative before he jerked himself away. 

“Whatever.” Some part of him felt warm with the compassion that C.A.M. showed towards him, but it was quickly torn apart by the knowledge that he both didn’t need and didn’t deserve it. Fine. If C.A.M. wanted to waste his time like a damn fool… Kingston drew and released a slow breath, wiping his nose with the back of his arm before pointedly turning away. He knew on some front he was acting more like a moody teenager than a man growing closer to 30 than 20, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. 

There wasn’t another word from King as he found his spot on the opposing side of the couch, painfully dragging his injured leg up and curling into the tightest ball he could manage, as if to avoid touching the android where he sat. C.A.M.’s pitiful gaze practically burned into him, and he cast one last glare in his direction before pressing his wet face into the jagged and broken sofa. Fuck him. 

C.A.M. didn’t move from his spot, intently scanning King despite his clear discomfort with little care for what was considered to be truly socially acceptable. Still, he spotted no new injuries with the happenings of the night, and with the guilt of his failure to succeed in helping that night heavy in his chest, he settled in. Kingston did fall asleep, despite his best efforts, slowly unfurling and pressing a foot into C.A.M. as he snored with his arm slung under his head. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow C.A.M. would fix this; at least… a little bit. Part of him wanted to ask Carmen about it; or Rexxx, but another glance to King quelled those thoughts from his mind. No; he would keep this between them. For now, at least. 


End file.
